


my heart [in your hands]

by 4beit



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, F/F, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23770444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4beit/pseuds/4beit
Summary: the world seems to slow as you hear dinah’s voice, but not of her answering, instead of her voicemail“this is dinah, don’t leave a message.”you don’t. not this time. instead you hang up and dial again. you listen to the seemingly never ended ringing, hoping against hope that it will be cut short and you’ll be met with dinah greeting you. except you’re sent to voicemail for a second, a third and a fourth time – finally caving and leaving a strangled “call me.” before hanging up once again.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 35
Kudos: 179





	my heart [in your hands]

**present day**

when it happens you have headphones in so you don’t hear the explosion as much as you feel it. even then, you’re so far from the epicentre that the momentary disturbance, a rippling shudder, is gone as quickly as it arrived. if you hadn’t been outdoors, there’s no promise that you would have taken any time to investigate. after all, this is gotham. except you’re not inside. in fact, you’re walking along the crowded lakefront path attempting to readjust yourself to being amongst crowds of strangers. it’s an exercise you undertake once a week, three hours through the most crowded of the cities hot spots. if you’re honest it’s a draining activity that you’d rather not participate in, but you’re aware that drawing knives on people just because they bumped into you isn’t the healthiest of reactions, so you’re working on that. and this time, with a breeze rippling across the water, you’re walking on when you begin to notice people stopping, staring, speaking to each other with shock in their eyes.

the visceral reaction of a pale-faced man digging out his phone and dialling someone, is enough to give you pause. it’s enough for you to tug a headphone out and –

“that’s a lot of smoke.” one woman says, a hand partially covering her mouth, to her walking companion “looks like that time that chemical factory went up.”

her walking friend shakes their head “that was more fire.” they say with an anxious glance directed at whatever is behind you, “this,” there’s a moments pause “that looks like a building collapse.”

you turn, unable to deny curiosity any longer and in half a second you find exactly what everyone is staring at. amidst the buildings of gotham rises a plume of grey smoke. you stand there, transfixed by the smoke keeps coming and coming, churning into the sky and threatening to turn a pleasant summer morning into something darker. it’s impressive destruction, even by gotham’s standards, but the longer you’re standing and watching, the longer you realise that something is very, very wrong. at first you can’t put a finger on it and tell yourself that it’s just the distress of the people along the lakefront getting to you. it seems like a plausible explanation, there are individuals standing with a phone pressed against their ears, pairs and groups talking in hushed whispers. even the dogs normally more interested in chasing seagulls down have stilled.

for a moment you consider texting harley, seeing if the chaos is her work. although by now she’d normally have messaged the group chat with some emoji filled, _there’s gonna be traffic through midtown,_ warning. just in case, you check your phone and see nothing, just the background photo of dinah –

and that’s when it hits you. your stomach drops and your heart skips several beats. whatever breath you had is caught in your chest as shove your phone back into your pocket. you weave between stock-still people, taking several steps forward in an attempt to gain an unobstructed view of the billowing smoke and dust. you stride up a small swelling of grass that normally serves as a hangout for sun-soaked hippies with an affinity for playing guitar to a stoned crowd. today, there’s less of them and you stand atop the crest of the upswelling watching the smoke with increasing unease.

you attempt to tell yourself that your rising panic is an overreaction. that train of thought leads to an intense internal argument where you point out that the location of said smoke and chaos is most definitely dinah’s neighbourhood. it’s an insurmountable fact that is unwavering in the face of attempts to reason yourself away from panic calling dinah. except the longer you’re standing here, hands jammed into your pockets and your gaze caught by the smoke, the more you’re certain that you need to hear dinah’s voice. you concede that your panic may be a foolish one, but there is an instinct, an uncertain certainty, that tells you dinah could be in trouble.

it’s not an instinct that you can put a name to – but you can place it. it started in your stomach, as soon as you heard the walking pair mention a building collapse. it spread through your body like too cold saline being pushed into your veins and has left you now, consumed by it. there’s a throbbing in your head that has started morphing into a dull roar that rings in your ears. it’s only when you retrieve your phone for a second time that you realise you might be sick. it’s a sensation in the back of your throat, one that threatens to have you doubling over sooner rather than later.

except now is not the time.

you attempt to unlock your phone with a complex swipe of your thumb along the nine by nine grid that appears, but the first time you try, nothing changes. it takes a deliberate breath and several seconds of focusing on the grass underneath your feet for your hand to stop shaking long enough to get it. you try and keep the momentary flash of control that swept through you by keeping your concentration on the grass, but the trick doesn’t work a second time. as you dial dinah’s number your gaze is dragged back to the smoke, and your attention is split by the not so distant wailing of sirens and the ringing on the other end of the line.

both sounds drag on

and on.

the world seems to slow as you hear dinah’s voice, but not of her answering, instead of her voicemail

_“this is dinah, don’t leave a message.”_

you don’t. not this time. instead you hang up and dial again. you listen to the seemingly never ended ringing, hoping against hope that it will be cut short and you’ll be met with dinah greeting you. except you’re sent to voicemail for a second, a third and a fourth time – finally caving and leaving a strangled “call me.” before hanging up once again.

you take a breath, not as deep nor as soothing as you’d like, but use it to formulate a plan. your bike is parked near-by. you can get through the gridlock and get as close as you can to the scene. you can see for yourself what’s happened; and all the while you can keep calling dinah. you know she should be answering. you know she has her phone nearby when you go out on your social immersion walks because more than once you’ve called on the edge of a very different sort of panic. your unanswered calls to her leave you considering the reasons that dinah may not be picking up the phone. you cycle through a dozen different answers, yet the same conclusion keeps surfacing again and again,

_dinah’s dead. she was in her apartment and it went up in flames and she’s dead. she’s dead._

the thought is strangling you. the concept of dinah being dead and gone enough to bring memories of bodies fallen on top of yours and the steady drip of your families blood into the carpet to the forefront of your mind. you tell yourself that now is not the time, that what happened to your family, to you, is not what happened to dinah. it’s not an argument that makes sense, but it’s all you can tell yourself as you straddle your bike, pulling up gotham live dot com, a website dedicated to all the breaking news in the city.

you click on the first headline, bold font with

breaking news,

in capital letters. there’s less information than you’d like but what text is there sends a shiver down your spine

_less than minutes ago, an explosion rocked the sixteen hundred block of kedzie avenue. all three emergency services are currently on scene with the fire department currently battling a blaze across multiple apartment complexes on the street. no updates have been given._

_have information, tweet us at @gothamlive or email us at breakingnews@gothamlive.com_

you stomach twists violently and you’re forced to grip at one handle of your bike for stability. the sixteen hundred block of kedzie is dinah’s block. her apartment building could be one of those currently ablaze.

you dial her again.

nothing.

you start the bikes engine and try a different tact.

this time, instead of calling dinah,

you call renee. you hear the ringing through the bluetooth in your helmet and you hear a gruff 

_“hello?”_ after the third ring.

“is d with you?” you ask, unaware of how tense your voice is until renee comes back with,

 _“you have to speak up crossbow, i can’t hear you.”_ renee says and in the background, you hear the familiar commentary from a baseball game. you don’t know how renee watches the sport, but if there’s a game, she’s sure to have it on. 

you take a breath, moving away from the curb and say, louder now “is dinah with you?”

a pause, wherein your heart is pounding and anxiety spikes to new heights. then _“no. she’s not here. i thought you two were having a day off together or something.”_ renee’s question is innocent enough, you and dinah have, had, - your thoughts falter and you bite your lip, hard, in an attempt to control your thoughts – you and dinah were going to go the aquarium today after you admitted how much you liked watching the jellyfish.

“if you hear from her,” you voice falters, feeling the tang of blood on your tongue “have her call me.”

you move to hang up, but renee’s response is faster _“woah crossbow,”_ she says _“what happened? you two have a fight?”_ where you would expect light teasing in her voice, you hear nothing but concern from renee.

“check gotham live.” you say, unable to explain where your thoughts are, where your head is at, for fear of dissolving into tears that won’t stop.

you barely hear renee’s _“okay.”_

before you hang up.

weaving through traffic is easier when the city has come to a standstill. busses you pass have emptied out expect for those using the air conditioning as a refuge from the summer heat. there are crowds on the sidewalk, people clumped together and talking amongst themselves. occasionally you see your panic mirrored back at you from a person leaning against a brick wall and clutching at their phone; or in the desperate glances of a person searching for someone with answers.

you call harley next. she takes longer to answer, five rings and then

 _“that wasn’t me, promise.”_ are the first words she says to you; and you hear the ever-present laughter in her voice. you can imagine her assuming that you’re calling to ask if the gridlock is all her fault. after all, you’ve done it before. mostly when you’re caught in a traffic jam you can’t escape from and would really have appreciated the heads up if she was planning traffic-disrupting criminal behaviour.

right now though, as a city in shock unfolds around you, who’s responsible is low on the list of things you care about. you take a breath and force yourself to once again ask the desperate question,

“is dinah with you?” as you come to a stop at a red light and not for the first time, feeling the itch to run it.

_“not here.” _harley replies casually, with piqued interest in her voice _“why?”___

__why._ _

__the single word rolling around in your head. it’s a simple question – one made more complex by the fact that harley hasn’t pieced together the location of the chaos and dinah’s possible whereabouts. you find yourself struggling to come up with an answer you can put into words._ _

__you can’t say,_ _

__because she isn’t answering the phone and i need to find her._ _

__you can’t say,_ _

__because i think her apartment is one of the ones that’s on fire and i think she might be dead._ _

__so instead, you tell harley what you told renee,_ _

__“if you hear from her, call me.”_ _

__then the light changes to green and you hang up with dread curling in the pit of your stomach._ _

* * *

__there’s a police cordon that begins some blocks out from the still smoking buildings. you’re close enough now that as you ditch your bike, the air is thick with the smell of burning. you tip your head back and the once blue summer sky is shrouded in by rising smoke and dust. it’s suffocating, but you’re already struggling to breathe because the closer you got to the mayhem, the tighter a band around your chest winched itself. now that you’re tugging off your helmet and trying to find the best way past eager, keen eyed officers just behind yellow tape, you realise that your hands have once again started shaking._ _

__you’re not the only one at the edge of the cordon. there’s a sizeable crowd, some with their phones out recording whatever they can see with their arm straight up in the air. you see people with tears in their eyes and their arms around each other, watching in shock at the chaos. others still are talking to reporters, describing what they heard, what they saw. it’s these people, towards the back of the crowd that catch your interest. social media, as unfamiliar with it as you are, is providing little by the way of answers. people who were here when it happened,_ _

__well,_ _

__they might be of more use._ _

__you linger by a pair of boys – no older than fifteen – in basketball shoes and shirtless, talking to someone from the press. they’re not on camera, and a quick sideways glance tells you that the boys must have seen something. you figure it from the way they’re standing, adjacent to the epicentre, glancing towards it as they speak._ _

__“it happened so quickly.” the taller of them is saying “we were in the park and then next thing there’s this noise.” he pauses, as if looking for a way to describe it._ _

__“like a crashing.” his companion says “a boom, that i could feel in here.” he taps his chest “it was from the concord complex,” he continues and a now familiar chill sweeps through your veins “it went up first,” and lifts his hand, miming rising flames._ _

__his companion starts to speak again and you step away,_ _

__you’ve heard enough._ _

__you find your bike and rest your helmet along the handlebar. it takes long seconds for you to realise that your phone is vibrating and even as you pull it out, your grasp slips and the phone slams into the floor. you curse, bending down to pick it up, seeing the screen cracked that shatterproof glass. you curse, swiping to answer renee’s call with something like hope in your voice when you say_ _

__“yeah?”_ _

___“have you heard from her?_ there’s no question now that renee has found out what’s happened. the sounds of the baseball game in the background are gone, muted presumably and there’s worry in renee’s voice that leaves you uncomfortable._ _

__“no.” you’re forced to admit “no, i haven’t.” you say, “but,” you swallow hard “but they’re saying around here that it was her complex that-” you trail off, unable to finish the sentence._ _

___“where are you?”_ renee asks, _“are you at the scene?”__ _

__“yeah.” you say “or, sort of. there’s a police line.”_ _

___i’ll talk to some of my contacts.”_ renees says with a practiced neutrality in her voice _“see what the story is. but helena, don’t go doing anything stupid.”_ renee warns, and you know she says it out of concern – warranted concern, because of your tendency to risk yourself where dinah is concerned _ _

__so, instead of lying, instead of promising to make rational choices that a normal human being would make,_ _

__you hang up._ _

__you hang up and call dinah’s phone again. you listen to it ring and ring before_ _

___“this is dinah, don’t leave a message.”_ _ _

__it’s her voice, but the pre-recorded message isn’t enough. you feel the sting of tears in your eyes and you force out another, “call me, dinah, please.”_ _

__you hang up, sagging forward onto your bike for support and trying to figure out what to do. around you, the crowd is shifting and growing. you hear voices but not the words, the onslaught of people becoming too much and you’re looking for an escape. the people, the panic, it’s all too much and you’re moving away from your bike and into a darker, quieter alleyway. you walk down it, finding small respite in the shadows and the relative emptiness. from here there’s no direct view of the chaos, just bookended by it with moving crowds, radio chatter and not so distant sirens._ _

__you take a steadying breath and grimace at the smell of rot and standing garbage water. any other time it would be sickening, but at least now it’s a refrain from the stench of burning and smoke. you continue to walk down the alley with no real intention or destination. you needed a moment to think, a moment away from the chaos to figure out a plan. not that your plan has much of an endgame. you need to find dinah. you need to get inside that cordon. you need to find dinah. you need to know she’s okay. you need –_ _

__you come to a stop at the edge of the alleyway. there’s another police line stopping you from moving any further, but from this angle you don’t need to. you stand, stock still with your gaze fixed on destruction. you see, what only this morning was a dozen story building, or more, reduced to a fourth of that. you see the concord complex, and the neighbouring building crumbling and smouldering and._ _

__fuck._ _

__you blink again, looking closer and – and the fact that you get a glance of it at all is a miracle. there are so many people in different uniforms with different purposes moving around that a clear view of anything but the obvious destruction should have been impossible. yet, for half a second the mass of people seem to part and_ _

__sure enough you see, covered in debris and dust and the bumper sticker that cass gave dinah after getting on the honour role at school,_ _

__dinah’s car._ _

__you grip at the brick wall for support; unsure if your legs will support you much longer. your remember last night, dinah’s celebration at getting a parking spot so close to her building – a miracle considering the three or four blocks she normally has to park. you remember unabashedly watching her beam, feeling your heart flutter the way it does whenever you see dinah that happy._ _

__to your left up the cordon, two offices are talking quietly. they haven’t noticed you, and you keep to the shadows taking the opportunity to listen in on their conversation “sergeant said that fire just keeps pulling out bodies.”_ _

__you feel the brickwork digging into the palm of your hand._ _

__the original officer keeps speaking “anyone who was in the concord when it blew probably didn’t survive.”_ _

__“jesus.” the second officer murmurs._ _

__you step back._ _

__you step back, gasping, remembering kissing dinah on your way out of her apartment this morning. she had been curled on the couch painting in her nails and promising to be ready for the aquarium when you got back._ _

__and now,_ _

___“anyone who was in the concord when it blew probably didn’t survive.”_ echoes in your mind._ _

__you move back down the alley, move back to your bike._ _

__you don’t know where you’re going when you kick it into gear, but realise suddenly, that you can’t stay here. not with dinah,_ _

__you think of her crushed and ruined car, unable to finish your previous thought._ _

* * *

__**eleven months ago** _ _

__it’s been three weeks since victor szaz died, and with his death your entire life changed. there’s a sense of satisfaction burning deep in the pit of your stomach that ignites whenever you think about the men you killed and the roles they played in the decimation of your family. what you’ve noticed though, is that you’re thinking about them less and less. whereas before, before your arrival in a city constantly on the edge of total mayhem, the names of those men would be the last ones you said at night and the first you said in the morning. your first waking moments have been replaced by the beep of a coffee machine or the coming to life of a radio that turns on automatically at seven am. lying in bed, listening to the morning traffic update with your hands folded beneath your head, you think about your life now._ _

__for one, you have, as harley says, a fuck ton of cash. you’ll admit, when the bank contacted you_ _

___“in relation to your families many accounts with us, ms. bertinelli. we can discuss access options as soon as you feel ready to come down to the bank.”_ _ _

__you were sceptical. after all, you had been young enough not to completely understand the workings of your families finances when they were murdered. that had definitely not been the case when you, and dinah because you needed someone to come with you, were seated in a fancy private office at the bank and the manager read out a ten-digit number. dinah – after initially cursing loudly - had fallen into a sort of stunned silence and you, disbelieving the balance the manager had just told you, asked to see the screen yourself._ _

__as it turned out,_ _

__the man had not been lying._ _

__it was a staggering amount of money to be confronted with._ _

__with completion of your goal and the inheritance of your family fortune you also have time._ _

__not that you didn’t have time before, but now you weren’t spending every waking moment training for an upcoming revenge murder spree. you still worked out, still spent long hours training and shadow boxing and working away the restless energy you found yourself with. there only so long you could spend transforming into a sweaty, less angry mess. you found the nights easy to occupy as the birds of prey formed and started gutting the city from the inside out. what you struggled with, was the days. the days where you worked out and showered and ate and then were faced with nothing but sunshine and free time. or, more often than not, grey skies and a mood to match._ _

__like today for example._ _

__you hear the buzz of your phone along the bedside table you picked out from ikea – a place dinah had taken you and you immediately didn’t like for the crowds and the lack of escape options. the day trip had turned into the better of day and night spent sitting on an air mattress pressed against the wall with dinah next to you browsing ikea’s entire online catalogue and buying a lot of it. the memory makes you smile, sitting there on the floor eating pizza and playing music and feeling, arguably for the first time – like a normal person._ _

__your phone buzzes again and you grab at it blindly._ _

__there’s a moment of annoyance before you register that the messages are from dinah. the feeling that settles in your chest at the sight of_ _

___let’s go try out that axe throwing place today. it opens at ten._ _ _

__and_ _

___you can buy me breakfast before we get there._ _ _

__is a warm, fluttering sensation. it’s like sitting in the sun. your entire body feels calm and warm and you want to feel like this forever. it’s a sensation you’ve had a lot recently; and mostly when dinah is around._ _

__the thought gives you pause._ _

__you think about the way dinah smiles at you, the way she seems to be up for any activity as long as you’re involved. you think about the way she walks you home sometimes and you think about –_ _

__oh fuck._ _

__she’s been _flirting_ with you._ _

__and you, the social skills of a teaspoon, have only just now noticed._ _

__great._ _

__well, you sigh as the same warm flutter feeling kickstarts once again, you’re going to have to figure out what to do about all these feelings._ _

* * *

__**nine months ago** _ _

__it’s late and you’re sitting at the edge of the pier, legs hanging over the edge and looking down at the water. dinah is sat next to you, her fingers crossed lightly over yours as she leans back on her hands. you look over at her, catching the way the moonlight hits her face, making her shine, making your heart stutter in your chest. you know the moment dinah notices you watching her because instead of stiffening like she does when harley is staring at her, she turns and looks right at you. her eyes are soft, golden brown and tinged with the silver moonlight. she takes your hand more fully in her own and then looks back out across the water. there’s a beat more silence before she starts to speak_ _

__“i used to come out here with my mom.” she says, and the world around you falls away as dinah speaks. she doesn’t often talk about mom, not with the soft sadness in her voice that she has now “we used to love to watch the storms. gotham had some great storms when i was a kid.” dinah pauses for a moment and squeeze her hands, unsure of what else to do or say “she’d wake me up real late at night and ask me if i wanted to go watch the water. i’d be able to hear the storm from my bed, all the thunder and the wind. so, we would bundle up and she would make hot chocolate and drive us down here. we’d park in the parking lot over there,” she gestures with her free hand “and watch the water.”_ _

__dinah smiles, but you can see that it’s tinged with sadness “i stopped coming down here after she died.”_ _

__“i-“ you start, it had been your idea to come down here after all “sorry.” you say “we can go-“_ _

__dinah looks over at you, the sadness in her eyes fading “no.” she says, fingers still caught in yours “no, i didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad.” she explains “i’ve never shared this place with anyone before; but, i don’t know, it feels right to share it with you.” she looks over at you again and not for the first time you’re caught._ _

__caught in the moment._ _

__caught in the way you feel when you look at her. it’s a feeling that’s been growing and changing and becoming harder to ignore ever since you realised just how much dinah was flirting with you. and now, sitting next to her here; watching dinah sit there with your leather jacket around her shoulders, you realise something._ _

__“i,” you start, a sudden upswelling of nerves rising in your chest “i want to kiss you.”_ _

__it feels blunt and unromantic to say it like that, but god you need her to know._ _

__“so do it.” she replies, her gaze flitting down to your lips before looking back up at you._ _

__fuck._ _

__you kiss dinah lance for the first time on the edge of the pier._ _

__it’s one of the best moments of your life._ _

__when you part, only for the need to breathe and not because you wanted the kiss to be over, dinah laughs and the sound comes from deep in her chest “damn,” she says “i’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”_ _

__you laugh, lean forward and kiss her again._ _

* * *

__**six months ago** _ _

__you’re panting, head tipped back against the pillows as dinah straddles your hips. somewhere between the couch and the bed, she’s shed her shirt and you’re left breathless at the sight. she’s gorgeous, especially like this where she’s confident and soft and her hands are finding yours amidst the duvet. your hips are arching up into her at the same moment that dinah ducks back down, her hair falling like a curtain alongside her head as she kisses you once again. the action takes you back to the pier, that first moment, that first kiss, that first time you understood what it meant to want someone. now, you feel her fingertips trailing up your arms and the way she moves, it’s reverence. you’ve never been touched like this before._ _

__the thought catches your mind and you realise where this interaction is heading, where dinah’s hands want to go. the realisation gives you pause and though you try to hide it, dinah reads you. she reads the stiffness that expands outward from your chest in an instant and she’s asking_ _

__“you okay?”_ _

__her question is murmured but the sincerity there is unmissable. she’s leaning back slightly, settling more of her weight at your hips and letting her forefinger trail along the curve of your jaw._ _

__for long seconds you don’t answer. instead, you’re fighting with words stuck in your throat and a bubble of discomfort that’s threatening to pop. you look away from dinah, but the action doesn’t last long,_ _

__“hey,” she says, rolling off you, laying out next to you in one smooth motion “helena, talk to me.” it’s a plea as much as it’s encouragement – you know you’re prone to falling deep inside your own mind and hours can pass where you think minutes should have been._ _

__“i,” you start, stop “it’s silly.” you say, your left hand finding dinah’s left as she props herself up with one hand, looking over at you even as you try and roll towards her in an effort to restart the affections from moments ago._ _

__“hey,” dinah says, her voice softer still, a hand coming to your chest “talk to me.” she says “whatever it is, it’s not stupid.” and she sounds so certain, so sure that for half a second, confidence swells._ _

__“you’re very patient with me.” you tell her, with your gaze fixed on the ceiling and voice taking a self-deprecating tone despite attempts to mask it._ _

__beside you, confusion flutters across dinah’s face “i don’t understand.” she says._ _

__you’re not sure if she’s just being kind or,_ _

__you shrug and start to speak again, hand slipping from dinahs to play with loose threads easily found in the duvet “i spent the first nine years of my life in the mafia and then grew up amongst a bunch of killers.” you shake your head “i know i’m not the.” you pause, struggling for words “i know i’m weird.” you settle on “even for, you know.” you wave a hand “what we do.”_ _

__“did someone tell you that?” dinah asks and there’s,_ _

__is it anger?_ _

__is it sadness?_ _

__you’re not sure what you hear in her voice, but it doesn’t scare you like you think it should._ _

__“no.” you say, a reassurance perhaps “no. but, you know, i’ve seen the movies. i know, people don’t usually wait four months to start having sex with their partner.”_ _

__there’s silence for long seconds and your stomach is rising in your throat, snakes twisting in your stomach as you consider that this might be the end of it all. except your worries are halted when dinah’s hand finds yours once again and her touch is feather light “i don’t care about that.” she says “i don’t care if we never have sex.”_ _

__you look over at her dubiously._ _

__dinah is looking back at you unflinchingly. she’s holding your hand and looking at you with an intensity you haven’t seen from her before._ _

__“how can you not care?” you ask._ _

__“because i’m in this with you. whatever that means.” she says “i get that, you know, certain things will be difficult to talk about,” what happened the day your family was murdered, why making pasta by hand is so important to you “and we all like different things. some people don’t even like sex.” she says “and if that’s, if sex isn’t your thing that isn’t going to change us.”_ _

__you have to believe dinah. when there’s such passion, such honesty in her voice and her eyes, it’s impossible not to believe her, to trust her, to feel your entire body relax into the bed._ _

__“okay.” you say “it’s just,” you pause for only a moment “i’ve never had sex.” you exhale._ _

__dinah presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder “that’s okay.” she says “we’ll take it easy.” she continues “we don’t have to do anything at all,” she says “not tonight if you don’t feel like it.”_ _

__you look over at her, wondering how you got so lucky._ _

__“can we keep making out?” you ask “i like that.”_ _

__dinah’s eyes shine and she nods “oh i know you do.” she says._ _

__her weight atop your hips is a comfortable one as dinah straddles you again. your hands find the hem of her jeans and you let them run up the ladder of her ribs “you like it too?” you ask, looking up at her._ _

__dinah nods “more than almost anything else.” she says easily, soothingly._ _

__“almost?” you ask._ _

__“singing.” she says, “singing in front of a crowd.” she explains “feeling the energy in the room when they enjoy it. i’m not sure there’s anything like it.”_ _

__she punctuates her sentence by leaning forward and kissing you again._ _

* * *

__**three months ago** _ _

__outside of spending time with dinah, your favourite part of the week involves anytime you, renee and dinah become the birds of prey. this is mostly for two reasons: one – violence against people who deserve it and two – dinah has probably the best crime fighting outfits. it’s not fair that you look like a hobo, and she looks,_ _

__well,_ _

__in the middle of punching a guy in the face you look across the alley at dinah,_ _

__like that._ _

__with her hair pulled back and a savage yet wildly entertained look in her eyes she is pummelling a guy into submission against a dumpster. not only using her fists, but a recent gift from harley quinn. dinah had taken a shine to harley’s affinity for a baseball bat, and found herself enjoying the damage it dealt as a fighting weapon. so much so that a little over a week ago a customised bat was delivered to dinah’s apartment. there was no question who it was from, especially not when dinah opened the box and a metric fuckton of glitter exploded across the apartment. for you, outside the line of fire, it was hilarious. for dinah, who was both thrilled with the bat, and still finding glitter everywhere, it was less than amusing._ _

__trust harley to not be able to do something nice without a caveat. or, as dinah said while trying to vacuum the glitter from her carpet “that woman is like halloween. except instead of trick or treat, it’s trick and treat.”_ _

__all that said, dinah loves her bat – even though she refuses to tell harley that - and is using it to great effectiveness now. to your right, renee is opting for an equally brutal tact of slamming a masked mans head into the brick wall. as far as thursday nights go, this one is fairly typical up until the moment that it’s not._ _

__it takes exactly three seconds and a man with a gun to change everything. all of a sudden, in the midst of the fight – the world seems to still and the masked man dinah was beating with a bat has a gun to her head._ _

__“hey,” he shouts, one arm wrapped around her throat “drop your fucking weapons.”_ _

__the alley goes very, very quiet._ _

__two of the three men are out cold on the floor, bleeding and barely breathing. you can hear renee breathing quickly next to you, can picture her mind racing if only because yours is doing the same. your hands go up, fingers spread wide and you’re staring not at the man with a gun, but dinah. you see a flicker of fear, of uncertainty. but, more than anything else, she looks mad. pissed that she’s been caught out like this._ _

__“she’s going to come with me.” the masked man hisses, blood pouring from his nose “and when i get away, maybe i won’t fucking kill her.”_ _

__you shake your head, that plan is absolutely not going to work for you._ _

__“no.” you tell him._ _

__he laughs._ _

__renee hisses “what the fuck.”_ _

__and dinah just watches you._ _

__“you’re in no position to stop me.” the man says, shunting the barrel of the gun harder into dinah’s temple._ _

__you see her wince, see fear flash across her face._ _

__“no.” you concede, staying calm, ignoring the white-hot rage that is coursing through your veins “but i’m worth one point two billion dollars. leave her here, take me with you and you can have some of it.”_ _

__the man stares at you “bullshit.” he says, the arm around dinah’s throat tightening._ _

__you let your hood drop “i’m helena bertinelli.” you tell him, voice dangerous and cold “think i’m lying now?” you ask, knowing already that this man is going to die – and you’re going to be the one who kills him._ _

__for long seconds, the man seems to be debating his options as he stares helena down. finally, he nods, releasing his hold on dinah in favour of pushing her forward and following that up with a kick to her bar. in an instant he levels his gun at you “let’s go.” he hisses “you and me.” you can see the greed in his eyes, it’s consuming him._ _

__you glance at dinah, who’s being helped to her feet by renee. they’re both looking at you with stunned, furious expression on their faces. there’s something more in dinah’s eyes, not so much anger, not so much fear – but something else. someone you don’t have time to understand before your attention is turned to the man with a gun. you walk directly towards him, slowly, purposefully, until the barrel of his gun is square with the centre of your forehead._ _

__“you’re a dumb fucking bitch.” the man hisses._ _

__you stare him down “do you want your money?” you ask “i’ll take you to an atm. there’s one up the block.”_ _

__it’s a lie you hope he doesn’t see through. but also, this is gotham, there are atm’s everywhere._ _

__“lead the way.” the man says, taking a step back and turning so he can keep an eye on you and on your friends._ _

__it’s his fatal mistake._ _

__you wait for the moment his gaze shifts from you, unwilling as he is to turn his back on renee and dinah. the moment he looks at them, your hand curling around his wrist, shoving it into the sky and way from you. with your other hand you’re pulling your knife from its sheath and burying it in the mans stomach. you drag it up, as if you were gutting him, feeling his warm blood spilling over your hand. you follow it up with a vicious kick to his nuts._ _

__he drops to the ground._ _

__he’ll be dead soon._ _

__“what the hell,” renee says, charging forward “what kind of shit was that?”_ _

__you’re not sure which part she’s talking about. the trade of you for dinah or the outright murder. either way, you’re not sorry. you let your gaze slip past her, to where dinah is standing. she’s watching you carefully, as if there’s something she wants to say to you, but won’t say here._ _

__“you okay?” you ask her._ _

__she nods._ _

__“we okay?” you ask, slightly more afraid of the answer._ _

__dinah nods again “that was some reckless shit.” she says “what you just did.”_ _

__you meet her gaze “it got you safe though.”_ _

__renee snorts “we do not have time to unpack that.” she says “in case you two don’t remember, we just killed a man. something that is, at least the last time i checked, illegal.”_ _

__you look over at her “i’ll take care of him.” you say, it won’t be the first time you’ve disposed of a body._ _

__“no,” renee sighs “i got this.” she says “you two go kiss or fuck, or whatever it is that you two need to go do.”_ _

__what you need to, apparently, is not fucking or kissing. it’s standing in the kitchen of dinah’s apartment, washing your hands in the sink and saying_ _

__“i’m not sorry about what i did.” because you can’t tell if dinah is mad at you or what – but you want her to know that you don’t regret what you did tonight._ _

__“i know.” dinah says from where she’s leaning against the kitchen counter. her words are thoughtful, calm. you’re unsure what she’s thinking._ _

__“good.” you say “are you, are you mad at me?”_ _

__“no,” dinah says “i think,” she pauses, taking a breath “i think i’m in love with you.”_ _

__you go very still and glance over at dinah again. there’s nothing in her face that tells you she’s kidding or that it’s a joke. you keep looking at her, and dinah continues_ _

__“i mean it helena,” she says “i’ve known for a while. i was waiting for the right time to tell you. i didn’t want to freak you out, or say it too soon. but, what you did tonight. he could have killed you.”_ _

__“he could have killed you.” you counter “i couldn’t let that happen. i don’t need anyone else that i love to die.” you say the words without thinking, but of course they’re true._ _

__when you saw dinah with that gun to hear head you were nine all over again, your family was being murdered around you._ _

__you couldn’t lose dinah as well._ _

__“i mean it,” you say, looking over at dinah with your heart in your throat “i love you.”_ _

__dinah smiles and warmth floods through you “i love you back.” she says, hands taking your damp ones and you’re caught by the honesty, the happiness in her eyes._ _

__it makes risking yourself and killing the man worth all over again._ _

* * *

__**one month ago** _ _

__dinah is sitting at your kitchen counter with a mug of steaming coffee and a plate of leftover pizza in front of you. the sight of pizza for breakfast has you wrinkling your nose before dinah sees you, and you savour the moment to watch her enjoy her strange morning meal. it doesn’t last long, your footsteps alerting dinah to your presence and she sets her phone down “morning.” she says before taking a sip of coffee._ _

__“hey,” you greet, taking the coffee pot from the machine and fishing a clean mug from the drying rack next to the sink “you were up early.”_ _

__dinah nods, pulling a face “renee is running.”_ _

__you raise an eyebrow “from?”_ _

__“no, no,” dinah says “just running. like for fun. like you do.”_ _

__“oh.” you say “okay. good for her?”_ _

__“i guess.” dinah says with a shrug as she takes another bite of pizza “she wants me to come with her.”_ _

__“so, you woke up early to go running with renee.” you state, unable to hide your amusement._ _

__“yes.” dinah says “and i hated nearly every minute of it.”_ _

__“but you like running.” you point out._ _

__“i like running alone. running with renee was a reminder of that.” dinah says “but apparently, we’re gonna do it again in a couple of days. when her lungs have recovered or whatever. if we’re at yours i’ll have to borrow your keys again though.”_ _

__“you’re a good friend.” you say, tugging open a drawer and puling something out. something you had made a couple of days ago and setting it on the counter._ _

__you see dinah watch your motion, see her concentrate of the keys resting there._ _

__“they’re for you.” you tell her “they’re to my place.” as if it needs clarification “you’re here enough and you know, i want you to be able to come here whenever you want.” you slide the keys across the kitchen counter towards her._ _

__dinah breaks into a smile, snagging the keys with a finger “cool.” she says with a grin “thanks.”_ _

__you nod, turning your attention to finding some bread for toast._ _

__“i’ve got some keys for you.” dinah says, speaking to your back “at my place. if we swing by there today, you can have them.”_ _

__you just beam._ _

* * *

__**present day** _ _

__you’re numb._ _

__the blue skies of the morning have long since given way to a torrential downpour and despite being soaked to the bone, you’ve kept riding. you’ve cruised the city, passing a hundred different places that you’ve been with dinah. at each one you searched and searched again. you scanned the crowds, but despite the masses of people present, dinah was not amongst them. more than once your hope had gotten the better of you and someone of the right height or with the right hair or with the right gait would make your heart pound. for half a second you would start to shift, preparing to call out until –_ _

__no._ _

__it was never dinah._ _

__and each time you realise, your heart would break and the gravity of what you’ve lost, who you’ve lost, weighs heavier on your shoulders. checking the hospitals was the hardest of all. working up the courage to ask a receptionist if dinah was there, having to fumble and explain who you were and the lie you told to make sure you got a straight answer._ _

___“she’s my wife.”_ _ _

__there was such vaguely masked pity in the receptionists eyes that it made you want to scream._ _

__you didn’t scream, aware that it would not help the situation._ _

__however now, the grief roiling inside you is suffocating, nearly overwhelming as you continue to drive around the city. you have no more destinations, aware that there’s nowhere else you can check, nowhere else you can try to find dinah. you’re faced with the prospect of always feeling like this, of gotham transforming away from the place you were almost calling home to a city haunted with more painful memories than you think you can face. the trauma of your families murder had never left, but it hadn’t consumed gotham. coming back was a homecoming of sorts and after slaughtering their killers, you found yourself at peace with the city you had once known. there would be no peace with gotham now,_ _

__not with dinah,_ _

__you’re unable to finish the thought._ _

__an impatient horn from the car behind alerts you to the fact that the light above has long since changed green. you get your bike moving and reluctantly turn in the direction of your apartment. it’s not a place you wanted to go, but your clothes were soaking and the unseasonably cool afternoon was numbing your fingers. you had to change, even if you just went back out again afterwards. you probably would; would probably take to mindlessly wandering the streets because it would be easier than being in your apartment, in a place soaked with memories of dinah._ _

__they flutter through your mind now – dinah introducing you to mario kart; you teaching dinah how to make pasta from scratch like you mother taught you. one by one all of the best moments present themselves and it’s by sheer willpower alone that you make it to the underground parking complex of your building without needing to pull over or causing an accident. you park your bike in its usual spot and swing off it, already feeling the ache of hours astride setting in._ _

__you don’t care._ _

__you peel off your helmet and walk towards the stairwell. there is a perfectly serviceable elevator, as dinah pointed out each time you headed for the stairs. you would tell her that you know, but walking is healthy and good and helena didn’t mind the extra effort. if dinah minded, which you suspect she did, she ignored it a because each day, each time she would accompany you to the stairs. of course, then you would normally take the elevator from the ground floor._ _

__not today._ _

__today you keep walking._ _

__it feels like an endless upward spiral that leaves your legs burning._ _

__you don’t care._ _

__what’s a little burning in your legs compared to whatever dinah –_ _

__you swallow hard and try not to think of how dinah spent her last moments. yet try as you might, your mind circles back to the pain she might have been in, the fear she must have felt. did she know she was going to do?_ _

__you remember what that felt like. remember standing there, only nine years old, certain that death was coming. you remember standing there, rooted to the spot understanding, for the first time, what fear really was. you’ll never forget what it felt like to be certain of your own death._ _

__you wonder if dinah felt the same._ _

__consumed by your thoughts, you pass the twelfth floor and make it to fifteen before realising. the steady decent back down gives your legs a break but your knees are in protest. by the time you use your key to open the stairwell door and step out into the hall, your hands are shaking once again at the prospect of an empty apartment, of being alone – truly alone – for the first time since hearing about the building collapse._ _

__the threat of being sick, the roiling in your stomach, is nearly enough to turn you around. except you know the feeling would not go away._ _

__nothing will make this feeling go away._ _

__perhaps that was the gift of being so young when your family was murdered – or perhaps that was the trauma of it – but the immediate aftermath has been lost on you. there’s little in your memories about what it was like to survive a massacre and that which does remain only resurfaces in your nightmares. a convenient, if terrifying reason to avoid sleeping. although with dinah, with dinah sleep had become easier. you were no less haunted but were that much more at peace._ _

__were._ _

__no more._ _

__if you weren’t numb from it all perhaps you would be crying or screaming or any of a thousand things people tend to do when their world falls apart._ _

__you didn’t cry after your family died._ _

__no. you didn’t cry until you were older than your brother had been and you had realised he would never, ever, experience life like you were. now, pushing your key into the door you twist it in the lock you close your eyes trying to prepare yourself for the silence, the stilted suffocation of your apartment._ _

__the door swings open and you step inside._ _

__it’s dark but,_ _

__but something isn’t as you left it._ _

__there’s soft music coming from the radio and –_ _

__your entire being pauses. you stand there in the doorway with one trembling hand gripping at the handle. you’ve stopped breathing, stopped everything because,_ _

__because there’s singing._ _

__familiar singing, just loud enough to he heard over the radio but not performing for anyone in particular. the voice is familiar, is soothing and sends sparks through your body. you take half a step forward, your front door swinging shut._ _

__you choke out “dinah?” the name rolls of your tongue and something like relief is swelling in your gut and –_ _

__the radio goes silent. you hear footsteps and then,_ _

__“you really need to get your internet back up in-“ dinah pauses, stops where she stands._ _

__you’re staring at her in disbelief. she looks, she looks alive. she looks unhurt. you blink quickly and pinch at the soft skin of your wrist in case this is some kind of dream, some kind of grief-based illusion._ _

__“here.” dinah finishes, the word forgotten by the time she’s finished saying it “h,” she says “h, did you think-“ she starts, stops again as she falls into silence, just soaking you in._ _

__you’re sure you look a mess. you’re sure you look ruined in the worst of ways._ _

__you’re sure you don’t care._ _

__“you’re alive.” you gasp, walking towards her “you,” what words you did have are trapped in your chest._ _

__“i’m alive.” she affirms, meeting you in your stride and allowing herself to be pulled into your arms “i’m alive.” she murmurs “i’m right here.”_ _

__dinah is solid in your arms. she is solid and real and not dead. you hold her close, feeling her breath wash over your neck and her hands wrap around you “i’m alive.” she says, again and again – somehow knowing it’s exactly what you need to hear, what you need in this moment._ _

__you only realise your crying when tears blur your vision. they’re rolling down your cheeks hot and fast as you ask, voice thick with relief, with pain “how?”_ _

__“i went down to the store.” dinah says, taking half a step back to meet your gaze, her thumb wiping tears from your cheeks “i left my phone inside by accident and by the time i realised i was already outside. i thought i would only be a couple of minutes, what was the worst that could happen.” she pauses, shuddering and you realise her voice is thick with emotions “i was inside the store when it happened and we all just started running like hell.” she takes a breath “by the time the noise of it all stopped, some of us were heading back, trying to get close enough to see what happened, to see if people needed help.”_ _

__of course she did._ _

__“it was too late mostly.” she says “but i-i found a woman trapped in her car. her husband had been crushed, but she,” dinah shakes her head “she was alive, somehow. fucking covered in blood.” you find dinah’s hand and takes them “i stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. i couldn’t, i couldn’t leave her.”_ _

__dinah exhales. you step closer still, one hand slipping to her waist. you buoy dinah to this moment._ _

__you know what it’s like to be swept away by the past._ _

__“take your time.” you say, trying to find the way to tell her that she doesn’t have to say all of this now if she doesn’t want too – but you find that your own words still aren’t working._ _

__“by the time the paramedics got to her, to us, i felt okay, considering. didn’t know where to go. all i had were my keys and some cash. so i, i walked to renee’s. she was the closest. i figured i could get there and she would call you and-” dinah shakes her head “but renee was gone.”_ _

__your mind flashes to renee calling you, giving you updates from the scene where she was milking some cop buddies for intel._ _

__“harley wasn’t at her place.” dinah says “so i just,” she exhales “i walked here. didn’t know where else to go.”_ _

__“i thought,” you start, the words bubbling up in your throat “i thought you were ,” you surge forward and kiss her._ _

__you can’t say the words, won’t say them. not right now._ _

__not when dinah is alive and breathing and kissing you back._ _

__fuck._ _

__she’s kissing you._ _

__she’s kissing you and you,_ _

__you’re savouring the moment. you are memorizing what her hands skating down your back feel like. you’re memorizing how soft her lips are. you’re memorizing what it feels like to float and for the rest of the world to fall away, unimportant. your hands are moving, tugging at the hem of her shirt and waiting for a quick nod before they duck underneath. you feel her hips, her stomach, her ribs, the way she gasps a breath as your hands brush over her bra. the sound ignites something low in your belly._ _

__you haven’t felt like this before, desperate and head spinning and aching with a physical sort of need your hand can’t satisfy._ _

__“i want,” you start, pulling away to look at her “i want you.” you say._ _

__“i’m yours.” dinah replies, the words a promise on her lips – but it’s not what you mean and you see that she doesn’t quite understand._ _

__“no, i-i want-“ you tuck a thumb under the waist of her jeans “i want to have sex with you. i need to, i need to feel you, to-” the emotions you’re feeling are so visceral, so raw that you’re unable to name them. instead you’re left looking at dinah and hoping she understands._ _

__you thought she was dead._ _

__you thought she was gone, that you had lost her – and now she’s here, alive. you want to memorise every inch of her. you want to wash away the pain of your afternoon with making her feel good, making her feel electric, alive and loved._ _

__“are you sure?” she asks, hand trailing down to your hip “i’ll be here tomorrow.” she says “i promise.”_ _

__“tonight.” you tell her, you need her “if you want.”_ _

__“i want.” dinah agrees, leaning forward and kissing you again._ _

* * *

__in the half-light of your bedroom – thank fuck for black out curtains pulled mostly across the window – you’re kissing dinah against the wall. it has taken a small age to get from the hallway to here – but you are unhurried. dinah too, seemed to feel there was no reason to rush anything. not when shirts were discarded on the floor in a heap and coherent thought was quickly becoming impossible. you feel dinah keen away from the wall, hips pressing into yours and a moan filling the room “bed.” she says “bed. we need. i need.”_ _

__she doesn’t finish the sentence. she doesn’t have too._ _

__you’re not sure what inspires you to pick her up, but you slide your hands along her ass and in one motion have dinah in the air. she lets out a noise you’ve not heard before, wrapping her legs around you and bringing a hand to your jaw. she kisses you gently. for seconds you stand there, content to kiss and be kissed until the sun set and came up again. and if not for the whole,_ _

__having to walk to the bed thing and the promise of more,_ _

__you would have let her do just that_ _

__but her arms wrap around your neck and you lay her out on the bed, marvelling at the fact that she’s alive. you lean forward, planting a hand into the bed for support and kiss her. you kiss her jaw, down her neck, along the line of her collarbone. your heart stutters when dinah tips her head back, hands on your shoulders and groans. you read her body the way you read an enemy – except instead of looking for a weakness, you’re looking for reaction. you’re watching for what makes dinah shiver, hips rolling against the bed, against you. you’re watching for what makes her hands grip at you and what makes her lose a little bit more control._ _

__so far it seems that your mouth on her body makes her do all those things. it’s an exhilarating feeling, knowing that you’re the one making dinah feel this good._ _

__“can i take your bra off?” dinah asks, her words soft._ _

__you nod “yeah.” you say “yeah.” and you’re surprised at the arousal in your own voice “yours too?”_ _

__it’s half a question and as dinah’s hands come up to unclasp yours, she nods “definitely.”_ _

__your nerves betray you when it comes to working the clasp and frustration swells for only a second until dinah is sitting up and pressing a kiss into your neck “relax.” she breaths “if there’s something you don’t like, we can stop.”_ _

__you nod and moments later, her bra is away and you’re caught all over again with how gorgeous dinah is “fuck,” you mumble, hand coming to the back of her neck and you kiss her, trying to convey all that you can’t say._ _

__it must work because you feel dinah smiling against your lips and a hand comes to your nipple. she lets her palm skate over your breast, feather light, and you gasp into her mouth as your brain short circuits. dinah laughs, low and heady and leans back so she’s laying down on the bed again “i like that noise.”_ _

__you give a sort of strangled hum of agreement and as dinah moves to repeat the action, you say “i want, i want to focus on you. to make you feel good.”_ _

__it’s not just that, you realise. it’s needing her alive and underneath you and needing to memorise her body in way that you haven’t done before. you want to know every inch of her, want to memorise what you thought you had lost._ _

__“fuck,” dinah says “i already do.”_ _

__you shoot her a look and dinah’s hand comes to your jaw, guiding you up for another kiss “are you sure?” she asks, looking into your eyes._ _

__you’re caught by the vulnerability you see._ _

__“i’m sure.” you tell her “just, i might need some help.”_ _

__you’ve talked about this before, the two of you have. you’ve talked about your nerves at doing something wrong, at not being good enough at this. now, like then, dinah kisses you and says “just start with what makes you feel good. i’ll guide you.”_ _

__you can do that._ _

__you proceed to lose yourself in dinah. you find her hands and tangle them with yours. you kiss down her neck and her chest until you find the swell of her breast. you’re listening and feeling and reading dinah’s movements because you want this to be good for and –_ _

__and dinah’s back arches up when your tongue runs across her nipple with the filthiest sound escaping that sends electricity coursing through your veins. you shudder against her and repeat the motion, looking up at her. she’s watching you, eyes blown and dark with lust. right now, dinah in this moment, might just be the most attractive person you’ve ever seen. you feel her hand come to your hair and where you expected it to guide, her touch just lingers – like she wants to be connected to you like this._ _

__you spend long, endless minutes kissing your way down dinah’s stomach, trailing your fingers down her ribs, along the curve of her hips. you see the goosebumps that rise in their wake and feel dinah shifting underneath you, impatient perhaps. your fingers come to the button of her jeans “can i?” you ask, voice rough, looking up the plane of her body at dinah._ _

__dinah nods, hand escaping your hair to help. it takes seconds to shimmy out of her jeans and you can’t help but laugh, can’t help but enjoy the sight of her so relaxed and at ease._ _

__[and alive. you can’t forget that she’s alive.]_ _

__naked, except for her underwear, dinah stands. she rocks up onto her toes and kisses you. she murmurs soft words at the shell of your ear “i’m going to take yours off.”_ _

__and as you’re nodding, she is kissing down your chest, down your stomach. she’s taking her time, there is no rush to her action, no haste. your hand comes to her hair and you hear her hiss in satisfaction. then, in your bedroom, dinah fucking lance is dropping to her knees. the image, dinah taking half a second to look up at you, her fingers working at the buttons to your pants, will be seared into your brain for the rest of your life. her smile is saccharine in all the right ways and you think your legs might give way as in one fluid motion, she brings your pants to your knees, to your calves, to your ankles. you tip your head back and exhale in an attempt to steady yourself,_ _

__this is the opposite end of the spectrum you were at only an hour ago. you wonder if you should have some sort of whiplash or feel less sure that this is what you want. but as dinah rises from her knees, as her hands find your again,_ _

__you stop thinking._ _

__this is where you want to be, with the person you want to be with._ _

__it can be that simple._ _

* * *

__hours later, the sun having long since set, you’re laying in bed with dinah curled into your side. the cold open to another episode of brooklyn nine-nine playing automatically. with one hand, you reach out to pause the show, tilting your head slightly and study dinah. she’s drowsy, has been dozing since you showered together. however, she must be able to sense you watching because her eyes flutter open and she gives you a lazy smile “hey.” she says._ _

__“hey.” you reply, unable to stop your own happiness infect the moment._ _

__as you begin to think about what you want to say, your heart begins to pound in your chest. it’s not a fear of how dinah will react, it’s a fear of not being able to say things right. you struggle with your words. sometimes you struggle to connect emotions to words and words into phrases. you take a breath and start to speak anyway._ _

__“i thought,” you say “i thought you were dead.” it’s the first time you’ve admitted the words out loud._ _

__“helena,” dinah starts, but she pauses, giving you the space to keep going._ _

__[her hand squeezes yours. she’s here. she’s here. she’s here.]_ _

__“i didn’t know what i was going to do with myself.” you tell her “i-“ you swallow hard, and forcing yourself to keep looking at her, so she can see all that you can not yet say “you’re the most important person in my life.” you say “and i, i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”_ _

__you exhale._ _

__there, said it. said as much of it as you can find the words for._ _

__“i want that too.” dinah murmurs, her words a light in the soft darkness._ _

__you smile, words spilling from you now “i drove around for hours trying, hoping to find you. and when you didn’t turn up, not even at the hospitals,” you exhale and feel dinah’s lips against the ball of your shoulder “i almost couldn’t face coming back here.”_ _

__“i’m alive.” she reminds, softness in her voice just for you._ _

__“i know.” you reply “i know.”_ _

__[and you won’t forget it.]_ _

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to traceable who gave thoughts and opinions on the early drafts of this story. 
> 
> to anyone has seen burn notice - yes this is where i got the idea for this from. to anyone who hasn't seen burn notice - this is a completely orignal idea i definitely didn't pilfer from anywhere. 
> 
> thank you to all the comments and kudos on my last story. they mean the world. 
> 
> find me on tumblr at 4beit if you want to shout about birds of prey.


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